A Bodyguard to Remember

by Alison Bruce

  On my way to and from the bathroom, I checked the deadbolt and safety bar on the door.

  “I just had to be sure,” I explained.

  He nodded. He understood.

  “Want some tea?” I whispered. I didn’t want to go back to sleep right away in case the nightmares took up where they left off.

  He nodded and took a seat at the edge of Boone’s bed. He was backlit by the city lights shining through the half-open blinds. I made tea by the light of the bathroom fixtures. The rest of the room was in shadow and neither of us broke the silence until I sat opposite him.

  “Hartley,” he started, both hands wrapped around his cup.

  “Merrick,” I replied. Now that I knew I hadn’t insulted him, I was having fun with this new form of address.

  His mouth twitched with a micro-smile before resuming its habitual solemn mien. “I know this has been difficult for you . . .”

  “And I know you’re trying to keep me safe,” I interjected.

  “I’m trying to keep you and your children safe with as little anxiety as possible. I think I might be succeeding with Hope and Boone.”

  I sighed. “I’m glad.”

  “But not you.”

  “You’ve got an uphill battle with me,” I admitted. “The cloak and dagger stuff, not being able to go anywhere unattended . . . you know, I thought I was keeping to the rules today. I didn’t leave the hotel. I called you—not my fault you weren’t there—and I had the cell phone you gave me.”

  “I should have returned your call.”

  “Yes, you should have. Well, it would have helped. But that’s not the real problem. I don’t want to be so protected that I don’t know what is going on. I have an excellent imagination. Chances are I can imagine worse than the truth.”

  “Worse than you’ve already been through?” He sounded skeptical.

  “Much worse. You should have seen the dreams I was having.” I shuddered. “Much better to keep me in the loop as much as possible. Either my imagination will run away with me or I’ll forget to be cautious. Neither option is good.”

  “I will endeavour to keep you in the loop, but you need to realize I can’t tell you everything.”

  I let out a sigh that turned into a yawn.

  “Where are we going tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Disneyland.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and that micro-smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe exaggerating a little. You’ll see. This time, I believe I have a pleasant surprise.”

  I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have to admit I was wary it might turn out to be a Trojan horse. Merrick played everything so close to the chest, who knew what his ultimate motives might be.

  “Sergeant Merrick,” I started.

  “Yes, Hartley.”

  It hit me. He wasn’t just dropping the honorific. The way he said my name was subtly different. The almost smile was his own, but the conscious way he raised one eyebrow gave it away.

  “You’ve read my Star Trek novel,” I accused, fighting to keep my voice down. “You’re mimicking the Vulcan sergeant in the Starfleet Marines.”

  He chuckled softly, totally blowing the Vulcan mystique thing he had going.

  “It was irresistible,” he said. “This situation, you have to admit, is similar—though at least I don’t have to look forward to battling shape-shifters and berserker soldiers.”

  “You like Star Trek?” I asked.

  “Don’t sound so incredulous. Many people like Star Trek. I have to admit, I don’t read a lot of science fiction, but I watched Star Trek as a kid and I’ve enjoyed reading your stories.”

  I picked up my teacup and took a sip. It was almost drinking temperature. Maybe when the cup was empty I’d be ready to take a chance at sleep. In the meantime . . . “What do you like to read?”

  His face screwed up in a wince. “You’ll laugh at me,” he said, in a perfectly serious tone. “Your image of me as a tough cop will be shattered.”

  “What?”

  “I read mysteries—but not true crimes and I try to stay away from procedurals. Either they get it wrong or it’s too much like reality.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “I take it you read cozies.”

  He bit his lower lip and nodded. “It’s my guilty pleasure. Cozies and capers. I like the ones where the police detective gets the girl. It started with an Alisa Craig novel someone left in a hotel room—the story featured an RCMP detective.”

  “Who got the girl. I have the series and all the books she wrote as Charlotte Macleod.”

  “I noticed. We also share an interest in Janet Evanovich, but I stay away from cozies that feature food or hobbies.”

  “I can’t help it. I love the puns in the titles. So,” I waggled my brows since, due to a physical deficiency, I couldn’t raise a single eyebrow, “is there a girl-who-got-the-detective in your life?”

  He shook his head.

  “I told you I used to be married.”

  I nodded. “And that you have a son.”

  He gave a deflated sigh. “Yes, well, I hope I’ve been a good father, but I know I was a lousy husband. I’ve never taken the chance again. Don’t ever plan to.” With a slight tilt of his head he recovered his Vulcan-like cool. “For the moment, I think I identify with your Sergeant Valdok.”

  “Who dies saving the woman he can’t admit he loves. I might rewrite that part.” I finished my tea. “I’ll consider it while I try to get some more sleep.”

  * * *

  Thanks to auto checkout and valet parking, we were ready to go right after breakfast. Merrick was driving a minivan now and I noticed boxes in the back—two were marked with my name, the other two were marked for Hope and Boone. I looked at him questioningly.

  “Zeke managed to clear a few items.”

  I felt tears well up and busied myself with making sure the kids had everything to hide the fact that I was bowled over by Zeke’s consideration. I fussed about, until Merrick’s hand guided me into the passenger seat.

  As soon as we pulled away from the hotel, the questions started.

  “Where are we going?” asked Hope.

  “When will we get there?” asked Boone.

  “Can we put some music on?”

  “When are we stopping for lunch?”

  I had nothing to offer. I didn’t know where we were going, when we’d get there . . . but I did remind Boone that we’d only just had breakfast. Merrick just maintained an amused silence. I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled off the expressway about fifteen minutes later.

  Disneyland turned out to be the Disney Store in one of the big malls outside the city core. Also in the mall was a store that catered to private schools. Hope and Boone were going to a school with a strict dress code. They needed black pants, socks and shoes, and white shirts. For gym class, they needed black shorts, white t-shirts, and white socks and trainers. New backpacks and extra school supplies were bought. It was exciting. As Boone observed, the mall became their ‘Diagon Alley’ and the new school was like going to ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’.

  At the Disney Store, I bought belated birthday gifts for the twins and we all picked out pyjamas. Boone chose hockey-playing Tigger. Hope got a nightshirt with the Shepherd illustration of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet playing Pooh-sticks. I found an over-sized, plaid flannel nightshirt with Minnie Mouse embroidered on the pocket. Hope pointed out the matching set of men’s pyjamas with Mickey Mouse.

  “We could buy them for Dad,” she suggested.

  “Or not,” I replied. The image of Seth in Mickey Mouse pyjamas was only slightly less horrifying than imagining the look on his wife’s face.

  Merrick started searching through the stack. “If they come in extra-large, I’ll take them.”

  Hope looked from Merrick to me, and back again. I think I blushed. Merrick just took the pyjamas and ushered us towards the cash.

  By the time we re
-crossed Toronto, stopped for lunch, and got caught in a construction slow down, it was late afternoon. We were headed east on Highway 401. I didn’t know where we were going, but I hoped we wouldn’t be driving much longer. My wound wasn’t happy with all the sitting. I was sore and the kids needed to use the washroom.

  “Can we stop?” Boone asked.

  “Can you hold on a little longer?” Merrick countered. “I’m hoping to check into our hotel in time to go swimming.”

  “Hotel?” asked Hope, rousing from her bored stupor.

  “Swimming?” asked Boone.

  “We’re stopping in Belleville for the night and the hotel has a pool.”

  “And tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Ottawa.”

  Good. Presumably, there was lots of security in the nation’s capital. Theoretically, it should be a safe place to stay—since we weren’t politicians.

  “We could visit Max,” Boone said, bouncing on his seat in excitement. “Max is my best friend. He moved to Ottawa last year when his father changed jobs. We chat online but I haven’t seen him since forever.”

  “No,” Merrick said gently. “It isn’t safe enough. You can’t even tell Max that you’re in Ottawa.”

  “Where are we staying in Ottawa?” Hope asked, forestalling Boone’s complaints.

  Merrick touched his finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s a state secret.”

  The silly part was it might be true.

  * * *

  You would have thought I’d feel safe now that we were out of town and I knew I had an armed guard in the room. No. Again, I woke up in the middle of the night sure I’d heard someone trying to break in.

  Nothing.

  I carefully slipped out of bed. There were no cots to be had, so Boone was sharing a bed with Merrick and Hope was in with me. Hope turned over, pulling the covers with her, but otherwise was undisturbed. When I returned from checking the locks and using the washroom, Merrick was up on one elbow, waiting for me.

  “Nightmare?”

  I nodded.

  “Tea?”

  I thought about it. It was almost three in the morning. I should try to get back to sleep. Try was the operative word. First, I’d have to wrestle the covers back from Hope without waking her. Then I’d have to convince myself it was safe to close my eyes.

  “I’m going to make tea,” Merrick whispered, pushing himself upright and swinging his legs to the floor. He put the bedside lamp on low and passed me my book. “Read. The distraction will help.”

  A better distraction was Merrick in Mickey Mouse pyjamas. I watched him make tea, admiring his broad shoulders—hiding behind my book when he turned around. It was totally inappropriate of me to act on my thoughts, but I figured I could be forgiven for imagining the sensation of having my hands sandwiched between the hard muscles of his back and the soft flannel of his pyjama top.

  “You must be feeling better,” he commented, as he delivered my tea. “Your colour is returning. So tell me, do you prefer me in straight plaid or plaid with Mickey Mouse?”

  Merrick noticed too much for my peace of mind. “It’s the flannel,” I said, scowling at him. “It’s disarming. If you remember, it calmed me when I lost it at the hospital.”

  He sat down on the edge of my bed. I scooted over a couple of inches to give him space.

  “I remember. The effect of flannel on you is so profound I am tempted to start wearing it by day.”

  I grinned. “With or without the dark suit?”

  “Everybody knows that dark suits are required by universal plainclothes police policy unless the officer is undercover. It’s worse in the United States. There the suits have to be black, particularly if you work for the federal government. You might have noticed my suits are navy or charcoal grey. That’s a Canadian touch.”

  He did silly with a perfectly straight face. I could do that too.

  “If you want to wear flannel, maybe you should go undercover as a lumberjack. That’s okay.”

  He squeezed my knee and got up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  Twelve hours later, we parked in an underground garage somewhere in downtown Ottawa. We weren’t far from Parliament Hill because Merrick did a drive-by en route and it wasn’t long after that he pulled into the garage. Otherwise, I didn’t have a clue where we were.

  While we stretched, Merrick fetched a cart and we loaded it up with our luggage, boxes, and fish. Then we followed him into the building. I noticed there were cameras everywhere.

  “Tomorrow,” Merrick announced, “we’ll get your key card and the security desk will take digital photos so they can identify you.”

  “What is this place?” asked Boone in an awed tone.

  Merrick touched his finger to his lips. “Shh. I told you before, it’s a state secret.”

  “Sarge!”

  His mouth lifted in a half smile.

  “It’s where I live. Let’s go in and I’ll explain.”

  From the garage, the key card was necessary to get into the building and again to summon the elevator. Merrick’s apartment was on the fourth floor. It was a nice place. The layout was basic. The door opened to a vestibule, which opened in one direction into a galley kitchen and the other to a large living-dining room. Merrick led us through the living room to a hall beyond. There were three bedrooms. The first one was being used as an office. The second one had bunk beds and a hockey theme.

  “This is my son’s room,” he told us.

  “Is he my age?” asked Boone.

  Merrick smiled. “No, my son is grown up.” He turned to me. “This is my condo. Nate doesn’t live here anymore, but you’ll see quite a bit of him. He’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him.” He turned back to my kids. “Do you guys mind sharing a room?”

  Hope and Boone shook their heads and started debating who would get the upper bunk.

  The master bedroom was next. It was furnished with a solid pine, Shaker-style suite. It included a king-sized bed, dresser, and bedside tables. I recognized it from an Ikea catalogue. There was even one of their ubiquitous bookshelves. En suite, there was a three-piece bathroom with a walk-in shower.

  “Nice,” I said, looking around.

  “All yours for the duration. I’ll clear some space in the dresser and closet. I’ve been meaning to put up another bookshelf. This is a good opportunity. Nate’s bringing it by tomorrow. We’ll set it up and you’ll have a place for your books. That’s what I brought, mostly, the books from your bedroom.”

  “Thank you. Good choice. Those are my comfort books.”

  There was an awkward moment when I wanted to break the rules and hug him.

  “I’ll go put some tea on,” he said abruptly. “There’s not much food in the house, so we’ll order in tonight. Pizza good?”

  “Pizza is great.”

  He hesitated and I hoped he was having rule-breaking thoughts too.

  “I guess we don’t need it right away.”

  “Not right away,” I agreed, taking a step toward him. “Sergeant Merrick, if I am staying here, where will you be?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Out of town, mostly.”

  “But not tonight?” I did my best to sound neutral—not provocative or panicked. I must have succeeded.

  “Don’t worry, Hartley, you’re not inconveniencing me. Tonight I’ll make up the bed in my office. There’s a pull-out couch.”

  Darn. I tried not to look disappointed. I liked it better when he had to sleep in the same room.

  CHAPTER 5

  Nate was a very nice, good-looking guy. He was tall, lean-muscled, with dark curly hair and grey eyes—very like his father but built for speed rather than stopping power. He looked young, mid-twenties at most, except around the eyes. They were shadowed and lined and had the look of a man who had seen too much. Again, like his father.

  “Nate is going to be your bodyguard,” Merrick announced, while Nate and the twins worked on the new bookcase. “He’ll come here each morning and take y
ou and the kids to school. Hope and Boone are enrolled in a private school that caters to government and diplomatic clients. It’s a high security establishment and they are used to students coming and going, so it won’t be strange for your children to enroll midway through the year.”

  Not strange for the school, but weird for Hope and Boone.

  “Once they’re at school, Hope and Boone will be safe. For the rest of the day, you and Nate can work out a schedule that will suit you both. I want him to be with you whenever you’re not here or at the school.”

  “Surely your son has a life that I am disrupting.”

  “He’s just finished six years in the army, mostly spent in Afghanistan. He’s gone back to school part-time and is debating whether to go for officer’s training or police training or who knows what. He won’t dog your every step, but he’s familiar with protection details. I trust him.”

  That wasn’t what I was getting at, but I let it drop. As the man said, Nate and I could work it out.

  “Okay,” I said, changing the topic. “Tell me about this school.”

  “It’s a little different.” He almost smiled. “Hope and Boone aren’t far off comparing it to Hogwarts. Many of the students board there. Some stay while their parents are out of the country. Some are from other countries. A few are like your kids, in protective custody. They have to get creative to accommodate the different students. It will be a mind broadening experience for them. And it’s only temporary. In a couple of weeks, this whole situation could be settled.”

  I choked back a snort of laughter. It wasn’t that I thought he was lying. I just couldn’t believe his forecast.

  * * *

  In the afternoon we all visited the school, Nate included. We drove, but it was within walking distance of Merrick’s condo. The school was a big old house. Outside it looked like the house from The Addams Family TV show. Inside, Nate said it reminded him of ‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters’ from the X-Men. Boone and Hope stuck with Hogwarts and wished they could meet Harry Potter.